


glacial motion

by sugarcubeshiro



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Caught in the Rain, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Post-Season/Series 07, for some groping and shiro being horny on main, i wasn't sure about the rating so consider it a very tame M, shiro two seconds later: i lied, shiro: i would never kiss keith!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 19:49:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16980723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarcubeshiro/pseuds/sugarcubeshiro
Summary: “Times like these I wish I still had my old leather jacket… too bad the Garrison stopped making those.” He lifts an eyebrow and looks at Keith where he's all but shaking by now. “Might’ve offered some protection. Stopped you from turning into an ice cube under my watch.”“How chivalrous.” Keith tries to sound casual, but there’s a breathlessness to his voice, something making the want that’s been tugging in Shiro for months – maybe years, by now – whenever he looks at Keith yet again try to scramble for the surface with renewed vigor, twisting desperately to get free, no matter how badly Shiro tries to hold it down until it drowns. “You’d offer it for me?”“Of course,” Shiro murmurs. “Can’t have the leader of Voltron catching a cold after I dragged him out here to have my wicked ways with him.”





	glacial motion

**Author's Note:**

> this is 100% self-indulgent but sometimes you're just like 'i wanna write something short and cheesy with them kissing before s8 drops' and it turns into 7.5k words of dudes in love figuring out their feelings and making out or whatever. hm

They’ve been trying to get the hoverbike to start up again for about fifteen minutes when the dark clouds that rolled in over the sky halfway through their spontaneous trip through the desert make good on their promise, and rain starts to pour down.

“Fuck!” Keith wipes the back of his hand across his forehead and gets up from his crouch near the engine. “Nothing’s happening.”

Shiro gives a grunt in reply, kicking a little aimlessly at the side of the bike, where the grey paint has since long turned into a faded copper of old rust. He rubs his bare upper arm, already feeling the fabric of his white tee starting to soak. Keith’s not looking much better off, the natural volume of his hair slowly but surely deflating from the weight of the water falling on it. Shiro’s lips twitch with the smile, because it kind of makes Keith look like a wet cat.

“Think we should try to find some cover?” Shiro says as Keith pushes back his wet bangs, his other hand resting on his hip, which – really isn’t fair. Shiro does his best to focus on what he was thinking instead of staring at Keith where he’s standing looking like something out of a magazine spread. “Who knows how long this’ll last.”

They both share a glance before looking out at the open landscape in front of them, mostly sand and tufts of grass as far as they can see.

Keith offers a single eloquent, “…Uh.”

“C’mon,” Shiro laughs and slaps his shoulder, gripping it to shake it good-naturedly before he lets go and points at one of the large rock formations far off in the distance from where they’re standing, “I’ll race you over there.”

Even if it won’t end up offering any cover, he figures it’s not like it’ll hurt; they’re stuck out here either way for now, and in best case moving away from standing out in the open might prevent them from being hit by a lightning bolt. Shiro glances up at the sky, clouds seeming to darken just as he thinks it, such a deep shade of grey they’re almost black. He shudders before sneaking another glance at Keith, but Keith’s not looking back – since doing so would take valuable time from the challenge he’s been faced with, and Shiro realizes far too late Keith’s already started running before he could even finish his sentence.

“Hey!” Shiro calls out, but can’t hold back his chuckle as he sets off after him. “Stop  _cheating_  – ”

 

~

 

“I win!” Keith exclaims ten minutes later, doubled over with his hands resting on his knees before he straightens up – and if Keith reminds Shiro of a cat, now he’s definitely one who got the cream, victorious grin spreading on his face.

Shiro slows down to a jog and stops in front of him as he catches up, a few steps behind. “Yeah, yeah,” he waves him off and sucks in air through his lungs, putting his hands on his hips. He lets it out as slowly as he can manage, proud he’s at least not too out of breath and almost caught up with Keith, despite the other’s head start. It’s no secret Keith’s always been  _fast_ , and not only when he has his hands on the controls of a ship or on the handles of a hoverbike, but still. Losing sucks. “I’ll get you on the race back, don’t you worry.”

Keith snorts. “Whatever you need to tell yourself to feel better at the moment, buddy,” he says, laughing harder at the glare Shiro shoots him, leaning across to punch him on the shoulder. “Aw, c’mon, Shiro. Don’t be such a sore loser.”

Shiro lifts an eyebrow, just barely stopping himself from bringing up that time he’d won all nine rounds of arm-wrestling matches Keith had challenged him to in front of the rest of the Paladins one time at dinner, when Keith had ended up so grumpy he hadn’t talked to Shiro until breakfast the next morning. Teasing him about it probably won’t help with the whole ‘seeming unaffected’ thing Shiro’s trying for, though, so he smiles instead, but can’t stop himself from giving Keith a quick wink. “We’ll see who’s the sore loser next time I kick your ass.”

“Mm – right.” Keith glances away, lips still twitching with amusement, but he seems to decide to drop it with that. Instead he wrinkles his nose, looking down and pulling at the wet fabric of his dark t-shirt. “Guess it didn’t matter if we got here, though. Like – it literally made no difference whatsoever.”

“Well… I mean,” Shiro starts diplomatically, rubbing at his neck where rain is still sliding down it, because this was his idea after all. “I wouldn’t say it  _literally_  didn’t make a difference. Now we’re both sweaty too?”

Keith chuckles again and drops his shirt, the wetness of it making it cling to his abs in a way Shiro really can’t be blamed for staring at. He’s only one, simple, fragile, mortal single gay man, after all, who hasn’t been intimate with another guy in years by now, and Keith is – Keith is... well.

Shiro’s eyes trail further up his chest, past the curve of his defined pecs, across the long line of his throat. They land on Keith’s face where he’s still smiling softly, looking so beautiful sometimes staring at him directly has a more physical impact than any punch to the gut Shiro’s ever received; his knees weaken, his chest goes tight and his heart squeezes with adrenaline, making him feel like he’s lost his footing and now he’s tripping around trying to get his bearings back from something out of his control. Still, this is one of the few hits Shiro will always welcome, one he’d be willing to take lying down, again and again, for the rest of his life.

Oh, his mind offers helpfully, he’d  _gladly_  take so many things lying down, again and again, if Keith was the one who offered them. Or standing up. Or on his hands and knees. Against the wall or bent over the main console on the ATLAS bridge or on the desk in his old office or –

Shiro coughs awkwardly to clear his mind, tilting his head up at the sky while mentally slapping himself. He closes his eyes as the rain falls on his face, focusing on the feel of the cold water sliding down his skin.

It’s been  _years_ , he reminds himself again, an excuse and explanation all at once.

Touch starvation.

Sexual frustration.

That’s all there is to this. A certain kind of primal need to fuck after being without it for so long, lost in space and really going through things no one could have prepared him for.

“Speak for yourself about the sweating, old man,” Keith says around another chuckle, oblivious to Shiro’s lizard brain screeching at him to  _touch Keith touch Keith touch Keith_ , the way it’s been doing now for so long Shiro can barely remember what it’s like not to want him. He takes another deep breath. It’s okay. Most of the time it’s not even that bad. It’s – gotten better. Really. Shiro’s learned to ignore it. Sometimes.

Maybe.

Occasionally.

…He’s working on it.

The simple solution would probably be to get laid, but the complicated part of that is how he doesn’t want anyone but Keith. His heart gives another squeeze, a painful pinch next to his sternum at the thought. So maybe the physical aspect and Shiro’s general longing to be touched, thoroughly and properly by another breathing body, isn’t  _all_  there is to this. Not when what he wants is a particular pair of hands on his skin, belonging to someone he trusts more than himself, but he can’t let himself go there.

Shiro tilts his head to the side, peeks one eye open at Keith again. “Y’know, you keep having a little  _too_  much fun still mocking me for my age for someone who’s only four years younger than me by now.”

It might be even less, what with the parts of Shiro that weren't even really alive for some of that time, but dwelling on it always gives him a headache, so he tends to prefer not to.

“Mm. I just can’t help myself.” Keith sighs wistfully before stepping closer to where Shiro’s standing, Shiro’s eyebrows shooting up as Keith leans in with a little smirk while sliding his hands into the back pockets of his dark jeans. The fabric stretches tight over Keith’s sharp hip bones, a sliver of skin and the line of dark hair trailing down in the middle of his stomach showing low at his waist, which really isn’t helping Shiro with his whole ‘lizard brain screeching’ situation. “It’s the whole silver fox thing you’ve got going on nowadays – it brings out something in me I can’t control.”

Keith raises one of his hands again, flicking at Shiro’s bangs before he moves to pinch Shiro’s cheek.

Shiro makes a noise in objection and goes to grab Keith’s wrist before he can get there – because Keith might be faster, but Shiro’s still stronger, and his competitive streak is already riled up enough to think maybe wrestling in the mud in the rain while they’re both slippery and wet is definitely something worth considering, at least for the opportunity to press Keith into the ground and pin him in place, show him who’s laughing  _now_ ; even as the rational actually-functioning-adult part of him, the one that would very much like to keep Keith as a  _friend_ , blares red alarms in his head at the whole idea, while the lizard part still lurking in the back gives out a deep resounding  _yes_ … – but a loud crack like twenty cannons fired at once sounds from the sky and Shiro jumps on the spot, raising his arms with a yelp.

“Holy  _shit_  – ”

“Shiro?”

“I’m fine!” he hurries out even as he knows his eyes are a little too wild to be convincing. He takes a step back to press himself against the rocky wall behind them, digging his fingers into the stony surface as another rumble leaves the sky. He squeezes his eyes shut, fighting back a whimper.

Keith steps closer, eying him with his hand halfway raised between them, as if twitching with the need to reach for him but not knowing if the touch would be welcome. “Are you sure?”

“I’m  _fine_ , Keith, I promise,” Shiro snaps back, because Keith’s still looking at him like he’s worried, too much concern at the crease between his brows, nothing at all like a friend who’s going to playfully tease him for his reaction. “It’s not – some war wound thing, or stuff like that, okay? So just – relax.” The words have barely left Shiro’s mouth before he feels bad for how harsh he sounds, knowing full well Keith’s just caring about him. He closes his eyes again, sighs, allowing himself one small moment of hesitation – one small moment of still living life with his dignity somewhat intact – before he decides there’s no other option but to cast his embarrassment aside, and come clean. “…I’m sorry.” Shiro looks at Keith where he’s still standing next to him staring. “Sorry. It’s just – I’ve always been terrified of thunderstorms. Ever since I was a kid.”

“What?” Keith drops his hand, cocking his head, the hurt and worry on his face slowly turning into curious confusion instead. “But…” he says, like he’s trying to make sense of the words, “you’re a pilot. You love the sky. More than anything.”

“I  _know_ , Keith.” Shiro doesn’t know why he feels like blushing over a silly childhood fear, but he’s pouting a little, can’t help it as he pokes the toe of his boot into the muddy ground and mutters, “It got better. I mean, I worked on it, and – it jus’… it took me by surprise now, is all.”

Being ripped apart by what felt like a great surge of electricity tearing him up from the inside out until there was nothing left of his physical form might have added some bad memories to a phobia he thought he’d long overcome, too, but he doesn’t have to ruin the mood by mentioning that little detail right now.

“…Okay. If you say so. Promise you’re okay?”

“Yes,” Shiro says, knowing his ears have gone red. “Seriously, this is nothing. You should’ve seen me when I was a kid. I had to sleep with earmuffs whenever it was raining for a while.”

“Wait. Really?

“ _Yes_ , really,” Shiro says, suddenly filled with the childish urge to poke his tongue out at Keith, because Keith’s mouth starts to twitch, expression turning into what  _definitely_  looks like a friend who very much wants to tease him.

“That’s – cute.”

“A crying five-year-old is cute?”

“Now you’re just trying to make me feel sad for you.”

“Yeah,” Shiro hums, squinting his eyes, “my plan all along. I checked the weather forecast and dragged you out here so you could sweep me up in your big strong arms and protect me from the thundering sky.”

“You’d like that, huh?” Keith laughs but turns away, flustered as he crosses his arms and leans back against the rock next to Shiro. Shiro swallows, biting his own tongue, holding his breath for a moment. Keith’s silent next to him, bottom lip sucked between his teeth before he tilts his head back with a small smile, eyelashes fluttering as he closes his eyes. “I’ve always liked the rain. It’s so… peaceful. Y’know?”

There’s a flash of light illuminating their surroundings before another loud noise like all the employees inside of a fully staffed kitchen in a huge restaurant decided to drop every pot and plate they own on the floor at the same time and Shiro kind of wants to  _die_  from mortification and panic; no, he does  _not_  know. But Keith’s still wearing his tiny blissful smile, like it’s all a soothing tune someone’s playing on a harp while they sit by a peaceful lake in the woods – and Shiro can’t help but to smile back, because he really does love the wonderful little weirdo next to him more than he’s ever loved anyone else in his whole life before.

The thought of it alone is enough to spread warmth in his chest, despite the chilly rain on Shiro’s skin, traitorous heart of his refusing to listen to logic and reason for why he shouldn’t be thinking these things about his best friend.

A small shiver runs through Keith, breaking him out of whatever peaceful moment he was having next to Shiro as he huddles in a little on himself, like a baby bird puffing up its feathers.

“Hey.” Shiro leans in closer and furrows his brows, pressing their upper arms together. “Are you cold?”

Keith flicks his eyes to where they’re touching, following the line of Shiro’s shoulder before they settle on his face. “…’m fine. You’re just – you’re just trying to distract me from making fun of you for being scared of the rain.”

“I don’t mind the  _rain_.” Shiro scrunches his nose. “Although it’s not exactly great standing right in it, is it? Times like these I wish I still had my old leather jacket… too bad the Garrison stopped making those.” He lifts an eyebrow and looks at Keith where he’s all but shaking by now. “Might’ve offered some protection. Stopped you from turning into an ice cube under my watch.”

“How chivalrous.” Keith tries to sound casual, but there’s a breathlessness to his voice, something making the want that’s been tugging in Shiro for months – maybe years, by now – whenever he looks at Keith yet again try to scramble for the surface with renewed vigor, twisting desperately to get free, no matter how badly Shiro tries to hold it down until it drowns. “You’d offer it for me?”

“Of course,” Shiro murmurs. “Can’t have the leader of Voltron catching a cold after I dragged him out here to have my wicked ways with him.”

Keith laughs, the way he always does whenever Shiro lets something too bold slip out before he can stop himself – like Shiro’s being hilarious and ridiculous all at once, making such an obvious joke.

It’s probably for the best, anyway, Shiro tries to tell himself, if Keith thinks he’s just teasing.

He also tries to tell himself he should step away, just a little, put some distance between them, but Keith’s cold, and Keith is the one pressing closer, looking back at Shiro. So instead Shiro lifts his left arm, wrapping it around Keith’s shoulders and tugging him up against his side, smiling when Keith goes easily, shifting into the offered protection of Shiro’s embrace.

Keith lifts an eyebrow and looks up at him, voice low when he says, “Your idea of having your 'wicked ways' with me is making me ride you around the desert, Captain Shirogane?”

“It’s up there. Along with seeing you in my jacket.” Shiro bites the inside of his cheek, rubbing his thumb a little over the cold patch of skin where it’s resting on Keith’s upper arm, stopping himself from conjuring up some equal parts interesting and horrifically inappropriate images of Keith, wearing nothing but Shiro’s old jacket while straddled across and  _riding_  something that certainly isn’t the hoverbike they’ve borrowed.

His cheeks heat and he can’t look Keith in the eye, but in his quest to flick his gaze away he finds himself looking down instead, eyes falling back to Keith’s broad shoulders, his wide chest.

Keith’s muscles aren’t exactly bulging, not the way Shiro’s own do, but there’s even more definition to him by now than the lithe frame Keith used to have before the two years he spent away with his mother. He’s always been beautiful, at least since he grew up and Shiro couldn’t help but notice it any longer, always been pretty in a distant objectively-speaking-because-I-love-you-as-a-person-and-as-my-best-friend-so-you’ll-always-look-amazing-no-matter-what sort of way, but looking at Keith nowadays makes Shiro’s mouth water and his throat go dry at the same time, despite how much he’s tried to tell himself to stop it.

He loves Keith, and he can’t deny the way Keith is all sharp angles and lean muscles and handsome features affects him nowadays – but as lost as it makes Shiro feel with the seriousness of it, he’s also sure he’d feel as much surge of pure want and affection for him no matter what Keith looked like. It’s not in a distant objectively-speaking sort of way anymore, and it’s never been in a just-need-to-get-laid sort of way either.

Keith is the most beautiful person there is because he’s  _Keith_ , and it’s a heavy thought to have when Shiro has no idea what to do with it.

“Given how much you loved that thing I’d hate to take it from you,” Keith murmurs.

“Hm?”

“Your jacket. You wore it everywhere you could get away with being out of your uniform. If we found it, you’d probably start sleeping in it.”

Shiro chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah. I’d have to get a new size anyway. Bet my old one would’ve fit you better by now.”

“Ah. So really you’re just bragging about how much you’ve filled out since then?”

“ _That’s_  what you took away from it?”

“I don’t need to focus on how much you admire  _my_  physique. I know you’re jealous.” Keith’s nose twitches with the teasing as he flexes a little for show, the movement making Shiro’s grip shift when Keith lifts his arm. He turns at the same time as Keith does, and they end up standing face to face so close Shiro suddenly has a very hard time focusing on why exactly he’s convinced himself shoving his tongue down Keith’s throat would be a bad idea.

As if reading his mind, Keith’s eyes fall to Shiro’s lips. It happens so fast before he flicks them back up again Shiro would have wondered if he imagined it – but he hears the way Keith’s breath hitches on the inhale, sees Keith’s eyes blinking up at him, perfect lips forming into a silent little  _oh_  when Shiro stares back.

Shiro opens his mouth to say something –  _anything_  – but before he can gather his thoughts, something seems to settle in Keith. He moves again, and something in the air shifts with him, Shiro’s own breath catching when Keith slides his arms to circle around Shiro’s waist, leaning in closer to him.

“…I – ah.” Shiro manages to get out as he flails his hands for a moment before gripping Keith’s shoulders, staring down at Keith’s face where he’s still looking up at him, eyes squinted slightly – contemplative, almost wary. Then he quirks one corner of his mouth, giving Shiro the smallest smile, and hugs him tighter in his arms. Shiro blinks, heart thudding hard in his chest as he studies Keith’s face, taking in the curve of his nose and his soft-looking lips, how completely calm he suddenly seems. Still red-faced, Shiro swallows, but with Keith holding him in his arms he feels breathless and bold and unable to turn away his honesty any longer, so he slides his hands a little higher up Keith’s neck, throat feeling thick as he lowers his voice to murmur, “I don’t think ’jealous’ is the word I’d use to describe how you make me feel.”

Trying to disguise how nervous he is, Shiro lifts his left hand to trail a finger along a droplet of water sliding down from the tip of one of Keith’s strands of hair at his temple, completely soaked from the rain by now. He lets his fingertip skid along the path it makes down Keith’s scarred cheek, following it down his throat, past the dip between his collarbones where he stills, and lets it continue the rest of its journey down Keith’s chest alone.

“No?” Keith says when Shiro looks back at him, eyes a little lost and overwhelmed and disbelieving all at once, before he tries to school his expression. He still blinks too quickly a couple of times, Shiro easily recognizing the way Keith looks when he’s trying to process something he can’t make sense of why others are doing. “What word would you use?”

It’s Shiro’s turn to move, holding Keith’s hips as shifts them around and eases him back against the stone behind them, Keith ending up caged in by his body. He puts his prosthetic hand next to Keith’s head and strokes his other hand down the curve of Keith’s jaw, stopping at his chin to tilt his face up, Keith’s eyelids fluttering shut with a soft inhale.

Shiro takes a shaky breath of his own and leans in, so close their noses bump, before he pauses.

Closing his eyes, he tries so hard to tell himself to think about what he’s doing, fingers curling against the rock they’re resting against.

It’s Keith.

Bridging the gap between them means there’s no going back from this. Whatever move Shiro makes next is permanent to whatever future they’re facing together, whatever shape the relationship between them takes.

He opens his eyes again, finding Keith looking up at him with furrowed brows when nothing happens, frozen in Shiro’s hold. There’s a question in his gaze this time, still looking overwhelmed but something deeper caught in the intensity of his eyes as well; want and longing and something darker there, like hunger, and he hasn’t pushed Shiro off, isn’t laughing and asking him what the hell he’s doing.

Keith’s hands only slide higher up Shiro’s waist, resting over his ribs, tugging a little to bring him even closer.

“ _Shiro_ ,” he says, a hitched rasp to his voice as their foreheads rest together, emotions behind it no one else has ever managed to convey by saying the shortened form of his family name. People in his past who have been close to him have always used his given name, the  _Takashi_  carrying the weight of the importance between them, but Keith calls him Shiro like it’s the most intimate thing imaginable, something for just the two of them, no matter how many others use it, too.

Everything Keith does or says has always held more weight no matter how many times Shiro’s heard it before, because Keith’s the one it’s coming from, and that’s all he needs to believe it’s done out of love.

_Love_.

Shiro swallows against the surge of emotions hitting him as he finally feels something slide into place in his chest when the full force of it all, the full truth of what he feels for Keith, breaches the surface. The shift between them he’s been trying so hard not to acknowledge breaks free without restraint, a turning key finding home after Shiro’s been doing his best for so long to stubbornly jam it the wrong way. Ever since he realized there was something there he needed to store away to begin with, because – it’s Keith.

It’s  _Keith_ , standing crowded so close to him Shiro practically has him pinned in place, still expectant and trusting and body bent from the stony surface of the rock formation to get closer to him, the warmth of him so near both thrilling and familiar and safe in a way Shiro doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand how it could be possible for him to  _have_  this, even though it’s always been this way between them, trusting Keith the most natural thing in the world for him.

…Because it’s Keith.

Looking at him looking at Shiro with Keith’s fingers gripping the fabric of his t-shirt, there’s nothing Shiro can do anymore, no way he can stop his heart from getting the upper-hand on him, no more cards left for him to play of telling himself friendly flirting and teasing banter is all there is between them. There’s no hope of winning this round with any of the rational sensible arguments he’s tried to present, not when deep down he never really wanted them to have a chance to begin with.

The sigh shakes out of Shiro as he stops trying to force where everything should be, finally lets himself let go, and the heavy key in its lock changes its direction.

_Click_.

As simple as that.

Everything tucked away securely in his chest spills free, a too-full closet bursting open, and Shiro can’t even be bothered to panic at the mess it will make. Keith already knows all of him, all his faults and flaws, and he’s still here with him after everything, eyes currently flicking down to Shiro’s lips and back up again, violet gaze seeming close to indigo in the gray light of the storm above them.

“Keith, I – …” Shiro huffs out a breath, shaking his head as he closes his eyes, voice sounding too raw even to his own ears before he looks back at Keith again. He pushes the hand still on Keith’s cheek back a little, brushing away another bunch of wet strands of hair hanging at the side of the scar it still hurts to remember he was the one to put there. “It's not too cliché, is it?”  
  
“What? What’s too cliché?” Keith furrows his brows, another shiver running through him, and Shiro leans back enough he can look down at him, finally letting himself smile.

_It’s just Keith_.

Simple as that.

What has made it seem so complicated all this time Shiro has spent overthinking everything, the reason why being in love with him has felt like the hardest thing possible, is also the reason why this would always be – has always been – the easiest thing in the world.

“If I kissed you for the first time in the pouring rain.”

Keith makes a noise like a growl and it’s all the reply Shiro gets before Keith lifts one hand to yank him down by the neck, his other arm staying put around Shiro’s waist to pull him forward. Surging up to close the small gap left between them, Keith kisses him hard and off-center, Shiro scrambling to grab Keith’s face with a groan of his own. He pulls him in and tilts him for a better fit, gasping when Keith wastes no time parting his lips, the kiss turning hot and open-mouthed within seconds. Shiro lets out a whimper but closes his eyes, following Keith’s lead, and it’s all sort of awful and objectively terrible, too unpracticed on both their parts, but Keith licks into his mouth and at the wet touch of a tongue against his, Shiro can’t imagine anything more perfect than this.

He kisses back desperately, welcoming Keith in while pressing back against the pressure to meet him, making a happy little noise when Keith bites at his bottom lip.

Maybe if he was able to think more clearly, Shiro would slow them down, make sure they took their time; make it sweet and tentative before deepening it until their legs slowly went weak – but Keith has never not gone after something he wants without giving it his all, and Shiro has never been good at thinking clearly around Keith anyway. Keith moves his lips against his and Shiro sucks on his tongue, pleased when it makes Keith groan, tasting the rain and earth and  _Keith_  on his cold lips.

He feels the brush of Keith’s thigh against the outside of his own leg, Keith lifting it a little, like he wants Shiro to grab it. It's instinct and easy to comply, Shiro placing his palm low underneath Keith’s leg and squeezing the muscle there, hitching it up against his own hip before pressing Keith more firmly against the surface behind him. Keith makes another low broken noise, rocking his hips up against him, and no – Shiro  _really_  can’t imagine anything more perfect than this.

They break apart with gasped breaths, Shiro’s hands slowly sliding to hold Keith’s hips instead. Keith lets his leg fall back to the ground, hooking his calf over the back of Shiro’s own instead, both of them still so close their chests heave against each other’s. Shiro strokes his hands up Keith’s sides, trying to gather himself back into something with at least the slightest ability to think, even with Keith’s palms still sliding up and down the front of Shiro’s chest, following the path they take with wide eyes and clear want on his face.

“…Holy shit,” Keith rasps out, flicking his eyes up to him, blinking his wet lashes a few times as his hands travel further up, past his neck, cupping Shiro’s cheeks before he lifts a stunned hand to stroke through Shiro’s soaked bangs. He pushes them back with gentle fingers, and Shiro can’t help himself, the laugh  _snorts_  out of him as he hangs his head, shaking it and leaning into the touch. When he looks back up again, Keith somehow manages to both sound offended and still look flirtatious as he says, “ _What?_ ”

“Nothing – just.” Shiro lifts his own hand to hold Keith’s face, thumbing at his temple, swiping the pad of his finger over the hairs of one of Keith’s black eyebrows, smiling and amused. “Wondering if you’ll finally stop making fun of me for my old man hair now.”

Keith draws those sharp eyebrows of his together, frowning in a way that usually has everyone around him thinking he’s unapproachable and angry; Shiro’s always mostly found it adorable, like Keith’s a pissed off chipmunk. “I’ve never made fun of it,” Keith says. “I did mention something about how it makes something in me come lose I can’t control. Not my fault you didn’t catch on that I was obviously talking about how it makes me  _indescribably_  horny.”

Shiro chokes on a cough, another burst of laughter bubbling up in his chest at the bluntness, the blush blooming furiously across his face as he stumbles for words to respond. “Oh, that’s – that’s, uh. I’m. Well, I guess I’m – really…  _really_  glad I kissed you, then. Ah.” He swallows, nodding solemnly while pressing his lips firmly together to hold back his goofy grin. “Feel free to tell me more about it so I really get it. You should – try to spell it out plainly. I can be a little slow. Or, very slow.”

“Shiro.”

“No, I’m being serious, I’m – kinda bummed we’re out here in the rain now, y’know? Because I’d actually prefer for you to really show me what you mean by that. You see, I think we can conclude I’m a real idiot, an absolute  _moron_ , you’d have to be really thorough and dedicated with some  _very_  hands-on expl– _mmpf_ –”

He’s cut off mid-word by Keith’s laughter pressing against his lips in a kiss and Shiro leans into it easily, laughs with him in the space where their mouths meet before he presses deeper and kisses Keith back. He draws Keith closer with one hand at the back of his head, both of them getting lost in it once again, until they’ve swallowed all the giggling and all Shiro knows is the slide of Keith’s tongue against his own, Keith’s hands smoothing over his skin to wrap around his neck when they break apart.

“Shiro, I – ” Keith starts, eyes closed, trailing off in favor of continuing to press short soft kisses to Shiro’s mouth, as if reluctant to stop long enough to get whatever words he’s trying to say out. He licks his lips when he finally pulls back, resting their foreheads together, and Shiro has to stop himself from diving back in to take over from where Keith left off. “Shiro…”

“Yeah, baby?” he murmurs. Keith makes a choked-off noise at the back of his throat and Shiro’s eyes widen, realizing what he said. “Oh. Sorry, was that – ? That was – ”

Once again he's cut off by Keith grabbing him and kissing the words away from his lips, but this time, Keith doesn’t laugh. Instead he makes another little desperate sound against him, making Shiro overwhelmed with need, yes, but also feeling smug enough to pull back. He lifts an eyebrow as he looks down at Keith where he’s slowly opening his eyes again, looking red-cheeked and embarrassed while biting his bottom lip. “I – uh…”

Shiro doesn’t even bother trying to hold back his pleased smirk, squeezing his fingers on Keith’s hips. “So you liked that, huh?” he says, voice low, but it’s not really a question, and Keith knows it too.

“Shut up.” He tucks himself in to hide against Shiro’s neck, but quickly turns his head and leans up to mouth at Shiro's jaw instead, murmuring there, “…Say it again.”

_Oh_.

Shiro's eyelids flutter shut and he sucks in a breath, can’t find it in himself to chuckle or tease Keith about his reaction, not when his own legs feel weak, muscles all gooey from love and affection. He leans into Keith’s temple, noses at his hair, presses his mouth to his ear.

“Baby,” Shiro whispers, cupping Keith’s neck with his palm. He gently moves his thumb across the cold skin, and this time he's pretty sure the shiver that runs through Keith isn’t from the rain. Shuddering on the exhale, Shiro tightens his grip and murmurs again, “Baby. My baby.” He twists his fingers in Keith’s hair to tug his head back to catch his lips in another kiss, biting and demanding and just a little bit possessive as he licks into his mouth, taking what he now knows is his while giving Keith what’s  _his_.

Keith whimpers and kisses him back, wrapping his arms around him, Shiro hugging him close and needy and maybe a bit clingy, but Keith definitely doesn’t seem to mind, keeping his own grip tight on Shiro even as they break apart. “Shiro…” he says again as Shiro tries to catch his breath, taking a moment just to stare at Keith, because if he's punch-to-the-gut beautiful and hard to handle in everyday situations, after he's been kissed, Keith's completely lethal.

Shiro swallows, and his voice comes hoarse when he finally speaks. “So this was okay? …All of it?”

“ _Shiro_.” Keith repeats, closing his eyes and sighing like he can’t believe he has to say whatever words come next. “The guy I’ve wanted since I was sixteen, the man of my dreams, is standing in a wet white t-shirt that’s completely see-through by now, holding me in his arms and kissing me while calling me baby, and you're asking me if I'm  _okay_?”

“I – that’s –  _well_ ,” Shiro sputters, flustered, just barely stopping himself from crossing his arms over his chest or looking down to check just how accurate Keith’s statement about the state of his shirt is, shuffling in on himself to keep from squirming on the spot. And because he has no idea what to reply to any of it – the fact that Keith not only wants him  _now_ , but apparently always has, being way too much to wrap his head around – he flips the focus and stammers out, “Wh–what were you going to say? Before I, uh…”

“Short-circuited my brain?”

“ _Pfft_.”

A wide smile spreads on Keith’s face, teeth showing and all. “Thanks for finally kissing me.”

“You know, I – … technically you kissed me,” Shiro mutters and curls one hand into a fist, thumping it lightly against Keith’s chest. “Always have to one-up me, don’t you?”

Keith leans in, nudges forward to stroke the tip of his nose across Shiro’s cheek, still grinning. “Yeah, but you love it,” he teases before nipping at Shiro’s jaw, and Shiro shudders out a sigh.

“Mm. I do. I really, really do.” Shiro tilts his head back to give Keith better access, hands moving to Keith’s back as he feels him lick a spot on Shiro’s neck before biting into it, sucking at the skin, Shiro’s breath hitching again. “Every time you beat me at my own game, I get… how did you put it?  _Indescribably_  horny – ”

“Shiro.” Keith starts laughing again, flopping his forehead to tuck himself against Shiro’s chest. Shiro chuckles and pulls him closer, hugging him tightly as he presses a kiss with a lovingly loud  _smack_  to the top of his hair. Keith looks up and Shiro gives him a little waggle of his eyebrows, earning him a poke in his ribs and an eye-roll before Keith’s expression settles, turning serious again. “Seriously, though. I just – I didn’t think it was something you wanted. If I’d known, I would've definitely done this a lot sooner.”

“Keith. I've wanted it for so long.”

“You have?”

He looks so shocked.

Like it’s actually a surprise that the man who would go to the edge of the universe for him, who’s the most beautiful person Shiro’s ever seen, who’s his best friend and the greatest person he knows, is the one who has all of Shiro’s heart.

“God, Keith, don’t you get how – …” Shiro shakes his head, holding back a groan as he rubs Keith’s back. “ _Yes_. Of course I’ve wanted it. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I thought – I didn’t think you saw me that way.”

“For fuck’s sake, Shiro…” Keith snorts like that’s the single most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard and mumbles against his chest, “Guess we both really are idiots, huh? Absolute  _morons_ …”

It’s Shiro’s turn to laugh, snickering, because maybe  _he_  shouldn’t be surprised that the man who would go to the edge of the universe for him does want him back – before he stops, frowning as a thought hits him. “Wait,” he says, pulling back to stare at Keith. “Do you think everyone else already knows? I mean if we’ve both been – … what if people are making fun of us behind our backs?” Shiro gasps, mock-dramatic, tugging at Keith’s hair again to make sure he really has his attention. “ _Keith_. Are we the all-male version of Lance and Allura?”

Keith tips his head back further and lets out a strangled noise. “Nooo, don’t say that, Shiro.  _Please_  don’t say that. I mean they’re cute and all, but I don’t want to have to imagine either of us as Lance.”

“…Don’t be rude, Keith.”

“I said they were  _cute_ , how much more nice can I get?” Keith squints his eyes at him. “They probably have a bet going on for when we’ll get our shit together. I wonder who won. We have to find out the details before we tell any of them.”

Shiro snorts and leans in a little further into Keith’s space again, lowering his voice. “But what if I can’t promise I’ll be able to keep my hands off of you from now on?”

“Not much has to change.” Keith lifts an eyebrow, looking down Shiro’s chest – and when Keith’s eyes linger there without flicking back up, Shiro’s pretty sure that, yep, Keith really was telling the truth about his shirt, and his nipples are highly likely on full display, peaked and all. “I’ve always appreciated your shoulder rubs and public semi-massages.”

Shiro bites the inside of his cheek, has to stop himself from laughing again, because yes; they really  _are_  those idiots, but there's no one he'd rather be it with. Instead Shiro gives him a little smirk and moves to hold Keith's throat, putting a thumb on his jaw to tip Keith’s face back and expose his neck. “I really think it’s time for an upgrade to my public displays of affection, though,” he says and leans in to lick a line up Keith’s throat before biting into the skin, soothing the sting with a kiss and sucking on the spot with a pleased hum when Keith gasps, fingers twisting in the fabric of Shiro’s wet shirt.

“ _Ah_  – ” Keith lets out another sweet little sound and pulls him closer, their hips pressing together again. Shiro groans and lets one of his hands trail down to the small of Keith’s back to urge him on because  _yeah_  that feels good, continuing to tongue the hell out of Keith’s throat while wondering if Keith’s still too cold and he’d object if Shiro went to his knees and –

No.

God. Okay. Getting carried away.

They’re not having their first time together out here. This is already more than Shiro thought they could ever have and –

The sky rumbles loudly again and Shiro startles, biting down too hard on the spot he’s working over, Keith letting out a hiss ending in a whimper. “Sorry,” Shiro says quickly, kissing the skin in apology before he pulls back, admiring the blooming mark he’s put there. He smiles and leans in to press one last gentle kiss to it before straightening up to look at Keith again, where he’s standing open-mouthed and blinking, dazed, at him – and Shiro finds he doesn’t really care about the weather at all right now. “Hey, Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I have a newfound love for thunder.” Shiro lifts an eyebrow. “Kissing you might just have cured me of my phobia.”

Keith doesn’t smile back, not like Shiro had expected him to, instead swallowing as he licks his lips. A beat passes where he’s looking like he’s mulling things over before he tugs on Shiro’s shirt, and says, “Guess there’s no telling what my mouth can do for you, huh?”

Shiro sucks in a breath and pulls him closer, maybe to kiss him again – he can’t, doesn’t want to, sees no reason to, ever  _stop_  kissing him from now on – but Keith’s eyelids slip shut, brows pinching together as he goes stiff in Shiro’s arms. Shiro watches him where he seems so suddenly deep in thought, Keith staying still and silent long enough Shiro starts to worry. “What’s wr–”

Keith opens his eyes, smiles like nothing happened and presses a hand to Shiro’s chest, pushing him back until he unwraps his arms from around Keith. “Guess what?”

“…What?”

“Black should be here any minute now.” Keith trails his hand down Shiro's forearm to take his hand, tangling their fingers together before he gives him a wicked smirk, as sharp and dangerous and captivating as the edge of a knife glimmering in the sun when the light hits it just right. “We should head back to the bike so we can get out of here. I got some things to show you.”

Keith pulls Shiro closer for another quick kiss to his lips before lifting their joined hands, pressing a kiss to the back of Shiro’s knuckles as well, and then he starts walking. Shiro lets himself be tugged along, stumbling after him, helpless and in love and very,  _very_  much turned on, Keith looking over at him with another grin as he squeezes his fingers.

Walking together with their hands swinging between them as they spot the tiny dot in the sky far off in the distance where Black's coming closer, Shiro smiles too, completely fine with keeping their slow pace, despite any earlier promises to race Keith back.

“Hey,” Shiro says, eyes twinkling when Keith looks at him, “I guess I  _did_  get you on the way back, after all.”

Keith snorts, hanging his head and blushing a little, and Shiro squeezes his hand back, grinning so wide by now his cheeks ache from it, and yeah, he's definitely fine with this.

With Keith, Shiro's favourite thing has always been when they both win, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> i know any mention of shiro's jacket is pretty overdone at this point but like..... it was Big Sexy and i'm gay
> 
> i'm hiding from fandom until tomorrow to avoid seeing spoilers but i'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/sugarcubeshiro) if you wanna stop by! i mostly rt cute pictures of + gush about these losers


End file.
